


Well Played

by wyntera



Series: Hanzo and McCree's Gambling Adventures [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: Never trust a cowboy with a deck of cards.





	Well Played

There was a time, not too terribly long ago, when Hanzo Shimada thought himself good at cards. When he was a younger man and still under his family’s thrall he was tutored in various forms of gambling: blackjack, craps, baccarat, roulette. Assassin’s work often takes you into the realm where skill meets chance. Learning the subtle art of a con, to read an opponent’s body language, knowing when to walk away and when to press your luck, these were all skills worth perfecting. Hanzo was particularly good at poker. During his years in exile he was always privately thrilled when a mark would be the gambling type. Not only was the poker table a great place to learn more about a target without much effort on his part, but he could also make some extra cash as a little bonus. And Hanzo was skilled enough to know he would always be making that extra cash.

Then Jesse McCree came along and drained him dry.

Carefree whistling follows Hanzo as he stomps his way back to his room. He has never walked with less grace through the halls of Overwatch. At his door he jabs at the keypad hard enough to make his knuckles hurt. The whistling and the source of his ire follows him through the open door. Only once they are safe within the confines of Hanzo’s quarters does Jesse try to speak. “It’s just a game, darlin’.”

“I know it’s just a game,” Hanzo grits out, words halting. He yanks his ribbon from his hair and throws it in a haphazard pile on top of his dresser. Jerking the top drawer open, he retrieves a t-shirt and sleep pants then heads for the bathroom to change.

Jesse grabs his arm as he passes, halting his progress. “If you know it’s just a game, then why are you mad as a hornet?”

Hanzo pulls his arm free with a hard jerk, not meeting Jesse’s eyes, and slams the door behind him. “I am not mad!”

“Of course not, silly me,” comes the muffled reply. “What could possibly make me think that?”

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Hanzo turns on the faucet and squeezes far too much toothpaste onto his brush. He starts brushing with force, glaring at his own reflection.

The night started out so well. With over half the agents out on missions or visiting family, those that were left decided to unwind with some alcohol and a pile of unhealthy food. At some point someone suggested a game and Jesse had produced a pack of cards from seemingly nowhere. In hindsight, that should have been Hanzo’s first clue. Fareeha firmly declining a seat at the table and her comment about enjoying the show should have been his second.

The others’ playing was abysmal--when Lena gets to talking she forgets all about the game, Winston is far too expressive and bad at lying, and Lúcio really did not care what they were doing as long as everyone was having a good time. Jesse had done well but nothing worth worrying about. At the time, Hanzo had even been surprised. He had expected the cowboy to be better at the game. Foolish of him to underestimate an opponent so completely.

Hanzo let them win a few games, as he always does when sizing up new competition. Little did he know that Jesse was doing some evaluating of his own. Hanzo made his move and won five games in quick succession. As the cards were gathered and shuffled, Jesse said, “Wow, sweetheart, you’ve got some skill on you. Don’t know if we can keep up.”

Remembering the words has Hanzo spitting into the sink.

From that point on Jesse showed no mercy. Hand after hand, bet after bigger bet, he raked in his winnings. The worst part is he did it all with that same charming smile on his face, saying just the right things in just the right tone to goad Hanzo into pressing luck he did not have. Hanzo could feel himself making mistakes and still played right into Jesse’s hands. And in less than an hour, Hanzo found himself down four hundred dollars.

_ Four hundred dollars! _

Hanzo is not sure who he is more mad at, Jesse for being a card shark or himself for falling into the trap. And to add insult to injury, he finds himself impressed that his boyfriend pulled off the con so flawlessly. Impressed and a little turned-on. But mostly pissed.

“Hanzo? You okay in there?”

“I am fine,” he calls out, pulling his shirt off. He is being unreasonable. Yes, Jesse robbed him blind (four hundred dollars!!!) but Jesse did not hold a gun to his head and force him to put that money in the pot. Hanzo should have had the presence of mind to recognize when his pride was getting in the way of his good sense. Besides, now he knows better than to be taken in by those sweet honey-brown eyes and that guileless smile.

He opens the door and catches Jesse’s face in a wide grin that quickly morphs into wide-eyed and completely fake innocence. And just like that Hanzo is mad all over again. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face,” he snaps.

Jesse laughs just, damn him. He is already dressed down for the night, relaxed in nothing but his boxers reclining against the pillows, cigarillo rolled between his fingers. “Now that ain’t very neighborly.” He watches as Hanzo ignores him in favor of sitting on his side of the bed with his back to Jesse and going about brushing his hair with hard strokes. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

The brush yanks hard enough through Hanzo’s black strands for there to be a painful and audible rip of knots. “I am not embarrassed,” he lies.

The bed shifts as Jesse crosses the distance between them to press a prickly kiss to Hanzo’s shoulder. His warm breath dances over the dragon tattoo. “It’s okay, hun, I’d be embarrassed too after that display--oof!”

Jesse takes an elbow to the gut, all the air forced out of him. Hanzo glares at him as Jesse wheezes out a laugh at Hanzo’s expense and rolls back to his side of the bed. “You can sleep in your own room if you are going to annoy me all night.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone,” Jesse replies, shoving the unlit cigarillo between his teeth. He waits until Hanzo has put his brush down and is pulling on his sleep shirt to add, “Next time I’ll show you a few tricks, teach you the right way to play.”

Hanzo’s hands pause with the cotton over his head. He can feel his face heat in a rush of renewed fury.  _ That’s it. _

The pillow arcs through the air with blinding speed, so fast that Jesse is not even aware of it until it hits him in the face with enough force to split the end of his cigarillo. Tobacco spills out all over his chest and up into his hair leaving him sputtering and spitting out crushed leaves. Jesse barely sits up before another blow hits him in the side of the head. “Hey!” he shouts, taking a third, fourth, fifth hit with no way to defend himself. His mechanical arm takes the sixth and seventh before Hanzo backs off, sitting back on his haunches and glaring at Jesse with pillow poised to strike. “I’m just joking with you, Han!”

“Yes, very funny,” Hanzo sneers, flinging the pillow again. But this time Jesse is ready and catches the pillow in a firm grip, other hand snatching up his own. Hanzo has just enough time for his eyes to widen in realization before he gets hit right in the ear.

From there, it devolves into pure chaos.

Neither man can rightly remember the last time they engaged in a pillow fight, but certainly it was never as vicious and brutal as this. They can count themselves lucky that the pillows cannot leave bruises. Hanzo is also not sure when his anger burns away to laughter; perhaps it was when his pillow burst at the seams and the insides spilled out all over Jesse’s head, the cowboy cackling and covered in white fluff.

They end up on the floor next to the bed, Hanzo sprawled on top of his boyfriend after having tackled Jesse around the middle. Jesse’s laughter has Hanzo bouncing a little with each hiccupy breath, and Hanzo has to wipe tears from his eyes. “You are an ass,” Hanzo says, giggles easing into a hum of pleasure when Jesse pushes the dark hair out of Hanzo’s face. “Why did you have to show me up in front of everyone?”

Jesse sighs and grins up at him. “Can you blame me? It ain’t often I get to come out on top of things with you. You’re so talented and smart and handsome--”

“Do not--” Hanzo stops, laughs, presses a hand to Jesse’s mouth. “You are trying to flatter your way out of this.”

Words are mumbled behind Hanzo’s hand but he cannot understand them. Based on the facial expression he guesses Jesse asked if it is working. Then Jesse grips Hanzo by the wrist and moves the hand away. “It ain’t like I’m keepin’ the money, honey. I already put it back in your wallet.”

Hanzo frowns and tries to sit up, but Jesse holds him in place with hands at his waist. “I do not need your pity. You won fair, the money is yours.”

“About that,” Jesse says. He smiles, bashful and guilty, tapping his fingers along Hanzo’s waist. “Maybe fair is a bit of a stretch.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

Jesse turns his mechanical arm so that it rests between his chest and Hanzo’s. “Well, see, I thought for sure you’d notice, but, uh. You didn’t, and I didn’t want to let on to everyone else if you weren’t in on the joke, and. Well. Here.” He flicks his wrist just so and a playing card slips right out of a slot behind the skull on his forearm.

Hanzo picks up the card, flipping it back and forth. A king of hearts with the same card back style as the deck they played with earlier--the deck that Jesse supplied, suspiciously at hand when the game was suggested. “You,” Hanzo says, mouth opening but no more words coming out, so incredibly astounded at Jesse’s gall that he cannot even be mad.

“Me,” Jesse agrees, nodding. “Gotta tell you, sugar, your poker face is pretty flawless. You were a tough nut to crack. So I might’ve pulled out an old trick. And you were turning such a fetchin’ shade of pink I just couldn’t help myself.”

A laugh bubbles out of Hanzo as he shakes his head. “You cheated. I should have known.”

“You mad?”

Hanzo shakes his head and lets Jesse pull him down into a kiss. No, he is not mad. Impressed and turned-on have taken over where he was pissed. Dating Jesse McCree, he really should have guessed something like this. He pulls back and taps the card against Jesse’s cheek. “Next time, you should let me in on the con. We could really work this to our advantage.”

Jesse’s face positively lights up, and Hanzo knows it means nothing but trouble. “Have you ever been to Vegas?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns. 
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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